Let Me Tell You a Story about a Three Point Turn
- Shannon Smith
- Jun 25
- 3 min read
Earl and Betty sat in their livingroom when it happened.
“How was work?” Betty asked Earl.
“Blagh, the usual.” Earl replied. “You know how them city-folk get about their lawnmowers.”
“Its good money at least!”
“That is true.”
From the window of the old home they shared for thirty years they saw a strange car drive down the cracked pavement of the street. A small, blue, Toyota Camry with strangely-coloured license plate - the letters were blue on a white background when they should have been white on a black background. The two looked at the vehicle as they heard its engine rumble and tires bump on the cracks.
“Who are they?” Betty asked.
“I have no idea.” Replied Earl.
The vehicle then started slowing down as it approached their driveway.
“Are we expecting company?” Earl asked.
“No!” Betty replied. “I don’t know who that is!”
“Damn!” He jump up from his favourite, worn, chair. “Lay low sweety! I got this!”
Without further through Earl raced up the stairs of his home and into the bedroom. He opened the draw on the nightstand next to the twin bed he shared with Betty where, waiting for him, was how they were getting out of this: a Glock 19 handgun. Sweat came off his brow as he gripped the weapon’s handle and sprinted out of the room and down the stairs.
The Camry had stopped just short of the tail-end of Earl’s red F-250 pickup truck, practically touching the truck nuts on the hitch. He unlocked the front door of the linoleum foyer and charged outside, aiming the weapon at the interloping vehicle.
“Hey! Hey!” The man screamed as he squeezed the trigger. “This is private property!”
The driver, a young woman, flinched at the sound of the gunfire as she leaned out of her seat to look behind her. He fired again as she backed out of the driveway and sped off.
“That’ll teach ya!” Earl remarked as he reentered his house.
Later that evening the two decided to treat themselves to a supper in the local dinner. As they drive into the parking lot in that red F-250, Betty nudged him. “Earl... look!”
He didn’t see it at first. It wouldn’t be until they stepped out of the vehicle to make they’re way into the dinner when he saw it: that damned blue Camry with the strange license plate.
“Good thing I got my gun.” He said as he patted the chest of his vest, feeling the imprint of his Glock 19 press against him.
They walked into the dinner where the robust waitress sat them down. While looking over the menus Earl gawked as he say, sitting on a stool in the counter, that woman. The one who was driving that Camry. She appeared to be shaking as the waitress approached her.
“You alright hun?” The waitress asked the woman.
“I was shot at!” She replied reflexively.
“Oh?” Waitress raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah. I was driving through - road trip. Missed my turn on the highway...”
“You mean the freeway?”
“That’s right... yeah.” The woman nodded.
“From out of state?”
“Ontario... yeah.
“So I missed my turn. I go onto a side street to do a three point-turn off someone’s driveway... and the homeowner came out and started shooting at me.”
Written as part of the Let Me Tell You a Story series curated by Lillian Wong. More flash can be found here: https://letmetellthisstory.substack.com/
Wow, that had a real Florida feel to it. Shoot first, then blame the victim. I think Florida is in a twisted competition with Texas to determine which one is more patriotic? Where cruelty and religion mix in a monstrous way to form the hellscape of the old south.